


Wings

by Arterius_Rising



Series: Wings Universe [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Interspecies Awkwardness, Sexual Tension, Two badasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 00:45:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arterius_Rising/pseuds/Arterius_Rising
Summary: After a brutal battle, Shepard goes to Javik to check on him, only to discover his hidden wings.'She recalled their colour, a sort of golden yellow to match his eyes. While the silky membrane had been white, dusted with speckles like the stars in the endless expanse of space.'(Interspecies Awkwardness should be underlined.)





	Wings

**Author's Note:**

> What have I done? I have an interview tomorrow, and I stayed up to write this. I am a terrible adult. Coffee will have to come to the rescue in the morning... in a few hours. 
> 
> I couldn't get this out of my head after seeing some of the gorgeous fan works of Javik, with the most beautiful wings. You have to wonder whether he has them, or whether they were given to the Collectors? 
> 
> Song I listened to on repeat while writing this:  
> Apashe - I'm A Dragon Feat. Sway 
> 
> ...Because Javik is a dragon.
> 
> More of my art over on my Instagram for now: @ Hearonart

|Javik One-Shot| 

 

The last battle had been a brutal one. Usually she could count on Garrus and Javik to be a solid team; both mentally and physically competent, but they’d all taken a beating down on the ground. Husks, combined with rachni had become an explosive combination. They’d all taken acid to the body at one point or another during the fight. Javik had been the most uncomfortable with it. He’d been concernedly quiet on the shuttle ride back. Shepard had only just held her tongue. 

When normally she would allow them space on returning to ship, to wind down from the adrenaline, Shepard hadn’t yet stripped out of her singed armour when she headed down in the elevator to check on them. Garrus had waved her away, already at his console. He was more used to the unfortunate consequences of facing rachni than the other crew; he’d been with her on Noveria. He still hadn’t forgiven her for making him go to one of the coldest, snow filled planets when turians despised the cold. They expelled heat, didn’t retain it. 

“Javik looked more shaken than me,” he dismissed. “Go mother him, Shepard.” 

She punched his shoulder lightly, causing him to grunt and flick out a mandible. “I’ll be back, BG.” 

He groaned. “Remind me never to let you pick the movie. Next time we’re watching ‘Die for a Cause.’” 

Her cackle drifted back to him, as she made her way down through the walkway of sleeping pods. Only when the doors sealed behind her did her voice get cut off, but not before Garrus had shaken his head and snorted at his best friend. They were experiencing the most devastating war in fifty thousand years, and movie night had become a way to keep them sane, keep them grounded. He still questioned her tastes in vids. 

Shepard entered the elevator for a second time and thumbed the button for Javik’s floor. She ached all over, and the scents of battle which surrounded her filled her airways and gave her a sore throat. She’d make a quick stop to check in on their prothean, and then hightail it to the shower. After she was clean, she’d visit the shuttle bay to see if Cortez could buff the damage from her armour. Or perhaps she’d get James to do it, if only so he had something to do other then pull ups. 

Not that his workouts weren’t impressive. 

Compiling a to-do-list in her head, Shepard didn’t think much about knocking, she never had before, and so tapped the door to let herself in. At first she didn’t notice, but soon caught on that Javik appeared a lot less bulky, and there was far more turquoise to him than she typically saw. On the floor beside his water tables was his armour, pieces of it lined up. 

Shepard, her thoughts managing to catch up, found her gaze land once more on a bare Javik. No under-suit in sight, and upon his back; two wings, so thin and light they appeared like crystal details. The Collectors had flown, she hadn’t thought much of it... 

She didn’t get much time to admire, or ponder if he could use them, as she found herself with a face full of angry prothean. Her gawk snapped to his face, where two pairs of near glowing yellow eyes accompanied extremely sharp teeth. “Commander,” he snarled, then fell quiet. He was as startled as her on finding him in a state of undress. 

In a rush, she forgot all the politically correct replies drilled into her on how to handle awkward, or potentially war inflicting alien confrontations. Crystal wings, formed perfectly to the arch of his back. Almost transparent in their delicacy. She was intrigued, no - enchanted. Never had she seen a feature, or someone so beautiful. 

“You have, wings.” It was a statement, not a question. Though her tone was a mix of both. 

He sneered. “Very observant, Commander. It is a wonder how you’ve survived this long.” 

It would have been foolish to tear her gaze from a predator, as that was what he was; a warrior, an avatar of revenge who had nothing else to loose. An undisputedly dangerous being, so she kept her eyes focused on the largest of his. His nostrils flared, but he took a step back from her personal space. 

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she offered, rather lamely. His stare often made her stand up straighter, as if she were face to face with an alpha wolf and they were about to fight for dominance of the pack. His stare when he wore absolutely nothing? Did that, and more. 

When he continuously said nothing, Shepard shifted on her feet and was the first to look away. Only for a brief moment, to where his armour rested, still abraded. Shepard recalled the reason she’d entered in the first place. “The acid, from the last mission. I meant to come see how you were doing, Javik.” 

“Did you?” Was that contempt? He obviously thought she’d meant to walk in on him naked. Liked she’d planned it. Shepard could not have him believe such a thing. 

“I apologise, Javik. I value my crew’s privacy. I won’t enter without knocking again. You have my word.” She turned on her heel, and moved over to the door. Partly mortified. 

“Commander.” His voice halted her in place. 

A deep breath, and she looked back over her shoulder. Eyes up. She refused to take advantage of him by stealing a glance of his alien body. No matter how much curiosity itched at her. 

“Come here.” 

The two words were spoken in as an order. Shepard was so shocked, both at the beckoning and the tone that she could only stare at him with narrowed eyes. His stance was offbeat; somehow more tense, and yet open? His slitted eyes almost dared her to tread into his personal space.

Never one to be outdone, Shepard put steel in her spine and roamed over. She was Commander fucking Shepard, and very little frightened her. An arms width apart, they stood surveying one another. Still she kept her gaze up. He was a head taller than her, but she had never been one to cower. Hell, she’d stood her ground against a Reaper and its executioners beam. 

And so, it was with the courage of a woman who had taken on a rouge Spectre, and who fought daily with Gods made from metal, Shepard asked, “Can I touch your wings, Javik?” 

His nostrils flared once again, but he did not lash out. He took her measure with each second he held her in his sights. He flashed his teeth, “If you dare, Commander,” was his only reply. 

She kept her expression blank. Not many had the guts to dare her anything. Shepard had a reputation from her recruit days, of an unpredictable nature and foul temper. She’d mellowed over the years, though people still did not taunt her easily. 

He did not move an inch. Didn’t offer his back to her, a blind spot. She wouldn’t have been inclined to give her back to him if their positions were swapped, so she did not fault him for it. Which left only one option if she wanted to skim her fingers over the membranes of his wings, as she so wished to do. Shepard drew in a breath, and stepped into his chest. Her armour brushed his chest with the barest whisper of a touch. 

All the while, he watched her face. Her jaw locked, as she didn’t like to be under such scrutiny, but it was a test and she would hate to appear weak. To allow him to intimidate her in any way. Saren had swung her over the edge of a certain death platform on Virmire, and she’d punched him square in the face for it. 

Her next careful move was to reach around his forearms, to have access to the expanse of his back. He was broad, far larger than her, even with her in armour and him distinctly lacking of it. To accomplish her task, she had to raise slightly onto her tiptoes which brought the crook of her neck too close to his face, and those sharp teeth for her to be in her comfort zone. Her jaw clenched, a tell his eyes caught undoubtedly. 

Breathing through her nose, her scent mixed with his. A cocktail of sweat, of burnt armour and something unmistakably alien. Despite herself, she took in a deep pull of air. She could almost taste him on her tongue, underneath the potent smell of heat-sinks and blood. His nostrils widened, as he too, inhaled. His chest expanded and grazed hers as he did so. A shudder rolled through her, one which she tried excruciatingly hard to hide. 

His head tilted, dipped towards the junction between her neck and shoulder. Not enough for her to be troubled, but enough for her to take notice. He’d actively closed the distance between them, though neither touched. Shepard aimed to change that. Eagerly and yet controlled, her callus finger tips met the silky material of his wings. She drew her hands back with a gasp, the texture both pleasing and odd at the same time. 

He said nothing, only angled his face towards her weak point and watched. Confident that his wings were not like those of a moths, and would not break on contact, she stretched for them once more. This time she was prepared. His shoulders tightened as she drew her finger tips over them, down over the membrane and then up and outwards towards the harder edges which held its shape; a long teardrop. 

Eyes trailed over his shoulder, she endeavoured to form a picture in her mind without actually being able to see them. She recalled their colour, a sort of golden yellow to match his eyes. While the silky membrane had been white, dusted with speckles like the stars in the endless expanse of space. When he began to rumble, deep in his chest, her gaze snapped to him. Even still, he watched her. With a sudden dry throat, Shepard realised the touching of wings for proteans might mean the same as the underside of a turians fringe. 

No wonder he had reacted as he had. She’d caught a glimpse of a part of him which was vulnerable. Shepard, red faced, dropped her hands as if they’d caught on fire and removed herself from his space. “Javik, I-“ 

He followed her. Her movement backwards was echoed by his forward. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, simply to touch him, to guard herself or to push him away she wasn’t entirely sure. He brought his face close to the crook of her neck once more, and spoke with a growl. “You almost smell prothean; blood and battle. Though when I scent deeper, there is the unmistakable smell of human.” 

It was hard for her to read his tone, and so she warily said, “Of primitive?” Another statement, formed like a question. 

He gazed at her in silence. Shepard could only watch, and wait. When he drifted back from her to move over to his water station, his side offered, he provided, “Perhaps not you.” 

Shepard was stunned for a short moment. She needed to fix it. “I-“ 

“Commander,” he cut her off. “Whatever you are about to apologise for, hold your tongue. Protheans only display their wings to close friends, family… they are touched for many reasons; for comfort… intimacy. Had I not wanted you to handle them, then you would not have.” A simple statement, and yet a threat remained. 

“I wouldn’t-“ 

“Should you decide to return,” he spoke over her, clearly having reached the end of his patience. “There is no need to knock, Commander.” 

Her mouth closed on an audible snap. Had he? Did he mean? Ah… uh… She felt as flustered as Garrus when Tali fluttered her eyelids at him behind her mask. Reaching to scratch at the flushed spot on her neck, Shepard chose to leave before she said, or did something royally stupid. 

“That’s uh, good to know, Javik.” 

His laugh followed her all the way to the elevator, though Shepard knew he had not been joking at all. As the doors sealed her in, and the box launched up to her cabin, Shepard rubbed her mouth in thought. When the door opened, there was a secret smile on her lips and a sparkle to her eye. Next time she might knock, only to know she was welcome.


End file.
